of aplifting themselves out of baseness and selfishness, and to all who stumble or stray in the upward path. If God be the God of Jacob, then He may be my God; there is hope for me. He will not disdain us because our natures are permeated with sin, and our hearts prone to evil ; nor will He forsake us when we falter and fall back once more into besetting sin. If we will but surrender ourselves to His will, and allow Him to mould our hearts and shape our lives, we may, like Jacob, have to pass through refining fires, but in the crucible we shall leave the dross of our nature and shall emerge in the splendour of purity. If we contrast the baseness of the commencement of Jacob's career with the brilliance of its close, and then trace out the disciplinary dealings of God between those two points, we learn that though the process of Divine culture may involve chastisement and sorrow, yet its results are beyond measure desirable and glorious. God's elections are unto holiness. He stoops down to the lowest lovels of human sin, but only that He may elevate to the highest levels of Divine parity. He makes of the supplanter a prince and a saint.

The character of Jacob was foreshadowed at his very birth, and suffi. ciently indicated by the name which he received. Of the twins, Esau was the firstborn, but Jacob seized him by the heel—an action typical of the antagonism between the brothers, and of the cunning by which the younger should gain the victory over the elder. Their early life must have been comparatively quiet and uneventful. Isaac, their father, was a man of little enterprise ; a calm, patient, thoughtful, meditative man, ready to sacrifice anything for the sake of peace and serenity. The evenness of his temper, the depth of his piety, and the uprightness of his life commanded the respect of his neighbours, even while bis increasing prosperity aroused their envy. As the boys grew up together in these peaceful and prosperous surroundings, it soon became evident that the bent of their natures was in opposite directions. Esau was a wild, strong, impetuous youth, full of physical force, full of impulse, full of daring. His delight was in the exciting adventures of the chase, and the sports were all the more keenly relished when they were spiced with danger. There was a freedom, an exhilarating pleasure, an utter lack of restraint, about a huntsman's life, which accorded well with the strong physique, the iron nerve, and the roving disposition. The temperament and tastes of Jacob were widely dissimilar from those of his brother. He was “a plain man, dwelling in tents," shrinking from the hazardous pursuits in which Esan revelled ; quiet, gentle, and domestic in his habits ; characterized by à certain amount of thoughtfulness, pradence, and piety, strangely blended with selfishness, narrowness, and cunning. Esad was the typical huntsman; Jacob the typical shepherd. The one found his happiness in roaming amongst the mountains; the other enjoyed the domesticities of a pastoral life.

Unfortunately for the harmony of the family, parental partiality was allowed to enter. « Isaac loved Esau. ... but Rebekah loved Jacob.” Although the diversities of temperament in the brothers were so marked, by careful management and control and direction on the part of the parents, these diversities might never have developed into antagonism, but might have proved mutually helpful. They might have confided in each other. They might have found in each other a tower of strength. They might have realized how complemental their natures were, and derived mental development and training from the contact of life. Dissimilarities are as necessary as affinities of nature for profitable companionship. Jacob might have imparted to Esau some of his steadiness and thoughtfulness, and Esau might have -quickened in his younger brother additional frankness and courage, so that each might have been able to say of the other

"And he supplied my wants the more,

As his unlikeness fitted mine."*

But the possibility of this was frustrated by the folly of favouritism, The father allowed the deeper current of his affection to flow out to. ward Esau, while the mother's love entwined its tendrils more firmly around Jacob. They appear to have loved by contrast. Esau had inherited his dash and determination and daring from his mother, he stood at the opposite pole of character from his father, and yet that father doted upon him. Jacob possessed most of his father's characteristics and habits, with an infusion of subtle craftiness, and yet he was not the favourite of the father, but of the mother. The whole system of favouritism in a family is unspeakably bad. It is destractive of that essential unity, that solid compactness, which lies at the foundation of domestic peace and prosperity. It poisons all the springs of happiness. It invariably leads to dark mischiefs and disastrous consequences. In this patriarchal family, instead of fusing the natures of the boys, it widened the breach between them : so that Esau looked with disdain upon his less boisterous, lest robust, domestic brother; and Jacob timidly shrank from the bluff, ardent, reckless, impulsive hunter. They dwelt apart. There was little brotherly feeling between them. Their life was one prolonged antagonism, interspersed with a few temporary reconciliations; and the feud was perpetuated by their descendants, for the Edomites and the Israelites were always the most bitter and deadly foes.

* In Memoriam.

145

THE GLENWOOD SCHOOL TEACHER. In a small back street quite a , too late. They rose against him, distance from the main part of the determined to put down what they village of Glenwood, and just oppo- termed his interfering ways. site an unpainted cottage, stood a School had closed for two weeks, group of boys, deeply engrossed by as some alterations were to be something very important, it would made in the building. The day seem, for they did not appear to had been the darkest of the many notice a man who, with slow, heavy dark ones passed. The boys had steps, was pacing the narrow path been more troublesome than ever, that led to the house. Wearily, and they had the satisfaction of with bent figure he continued the knowing, as they filed out of the monotonous walking, while his schoolroom, that he was about as hands were clasped together in an wretched as they could make him. almost despairing manner. Now The boys of Glenwood were nearly and then he raised his head, and all sons of well-to-do farmers and with a dreary, helpless look, watched tradesmen, and at heart really not the boys in their earnest conversa- | bad; but they could not undertion. It was then that you saw stand a refined, sensitive nature his face-not that of an old man, like Mr. Burton's. If, in the begin. or even middle-aged, but a young ning, he had made them feel he face with all its youth crushed out; was master, much of the trouble a fine face, too sensitive perhaps for would have been averted; but as it a man, but withal gentle and win- was now, they made up their minds ning; a face one would instinctively to dislike him, and that in some trust. The eyes were dark and way they must rid themselves of deep-set, the mouth lined with care him. and trouble, and mingled with the Forthis purpose they had gathered dark bair were streaks of grey. An together to discuss the ways and old young man—there are many in means of preventing Mr. Burton's this life, and such was Henry Bur- return, as they knew he was to start ton, the teacher of the red school- on a journey the following morning. house, and the subject of the ani- How they meant to manage it was mated discussion that just then only known to themselves. The held the attention of the group plan settled, they separated. Words opposite.

of caution and warning were uttered, Occasionally he caught a word of and an old cigar stump tossed at their conversation, but it only the retreating figure of the teacher, pained him, as “mean old thing” while a muttered “old sneak” and “coward” reached his ears. accompanied it, and did not fail to The boys disliked him unjustly, too, reach his ears as they discovered and though he tried hard to win him, for the first time, pacing the their love, so far it had proved in- garden path. effectual. In the beginning of the No one desired more than Mr. year, Mr. Burton, who had come a Burton himself to leave his thankstranger to be the Glenwood school less task; but that he knew was teacher, had been so wrapped up in impossible. As long as the trustees his trouble that he had allowed the would keep him, he must stay and boys their own way; and when at work, and stint himself and savelast he was roused to a sense of the yes, his very name and honour dewrong he was doing, and tried to pended upon it. Presently he subdue and control them, it was I entered the house, and sitting down by a table finished the scanty re- | third dragged after him a bundle of mains of his dinner; then, clearing small ropes. They imagined they it away, he opened an old worn looked frightful enough to startle Bible, and read until the gathering any one, and surely they could comgloom hid the words from his sight. pletely master a nervous man like Pushing it aside he rested his head Mr. Burton. Their intention was, on his hands, drawing his thin coat then, to bind him to the boards, tighter around him, as if to keep carry him to an old cabin in the out the cold that crept in at every woods, oblige him to tell where he crevice of the old house, and laughed kept his money, for they thought exultingly at the few small pieces of he was a miser, then unloose him coal which soon burned out under and run away. They did not dare its wintry breath.

to do more than this, and, to do Was there no loving heart to help them justice, they were not bad him to bear his trouble, no willing enough to hurt him. They thought, hands to make his desolate home however, this would keep him from bright, no little smiling face to greet ever returning, and besides, it would him when the day's toil was over, be “great fun, a jolly lark, and pay and bring the sunshine into his up old skin-and-bones.” troubled life? There had been Softly they filed up the narrow once; he was thinking of it now; path, and all gathered by the winbut it only made the present harder dow to see how they could best take to bear. Too true it is

him. Just then the moon rose far

up above the hills, and breaking “A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.”

through the dark clouds, sent her

silverlight over the earth. It Night at last settled down on the glanced through the window where little village. Far on the horizon they stood, and lighting up the dark the evening star twinkled, followed room, showed them the kneeling by its host of lesser gems. In the form of their teacher. The open dim starlight, for the moon was yet Bible lay near him, and they saw behind the hills, the party of boys he was praying. were seen standing by the gate of Somewhat awed, they stood still Mr. Burton's home. One after a moment, when Bob said, “ Who'd another joined the circle, until they have thought we'd find the old numbered about twenty.

fellow praying? I say, boys, let's " Are you ready, fellows?” And wait a second till he's through, if as each responded, “ Yes,” “Yes,” he don't go on till day after never; their leader, a large boy of sixteen, and somehow I think we'd better said, “Well, then, forward, march ; not take him to the cabin, only only all promise me you won't hurt make out we're burglars, and give the old screw, but give him such a him a good fright.” good scare that he won't be in a A ready assent was quietly given, hurry to come back to us.”

for the boys had to speak in whis. “ All right, go ahead, Bob !” an pers. Again they became silent, swered the boys, as Robert Whitney and waited, it seemed, a long time, at their head led the way.

when they heard him say, “ And · They all had blackened faces, those debts! Oh that I may have and a few carried those far-famed strength to pay them, to wipe the hideous lanterns made out of pump- stain from my name, and then I kins, and so dear to boyish hearts. shall be so glad to die!” Two of them carried some rough Again a hush fell on the group. boards pailed together, while al Presently Bob spoke. “I tell

you, fellows, don't let's say any- | ago by the hand of a Divine thing about the money; you see Master. he's been extravagant when he was. The following morning dawned & young chap, and now he's got to clear and cold, and with its first pay up for it. It would be kind of grey tints Mr. Burton was up, his mean to tease him about it now; small valise packed, and on his way any way, he does look half-starved." to catch the early train. He reached

A still more ready “ All right, the station, bought his ticket, and Bob!” was given, as they once going out on the platform, watched more turned to the window. the white clouds of smoke rising

In the stillness around them they through the trees skyward. In the could hear their teacher distinctly, distance the tiny red light growing “And O Father, thou art merciful bigger and bigger warned him the to the least of thy children, have train was coming. He was alone, pity upon me, for I am desolate. I except for a few farmers' boys with have tried to love the boys, but they the milk caps ready for the incomwill not let me; they are cruel ing train. In a moment the shrill often, but they are thoughtless. whistle sounded, and the long line Forgive them, Father, and as they of carriages gradually approached grow to manhood keep from them, the station. if it be possible, the sorrows that As Mr. Burton waited for it to are mine."

stop, a hand was placed on his arm, "Boys”-and there was a very and a cheerful voice said, “ Halloa, queer lump in Bob's throat, and a Burton, you're an early bird! So strange glitter in his eyes" boys, you're off on a little jaunt, are we're a mean, contemptible lot of you ? " fellows, and I'm the meanest of you And Bob Whitney's father shook all. Think what we were going to do, him heartily by the hand, while his and all the time he was praying for kind old face scanned inquiringly us. Let's all go home; we are not the sad one of the young man before fit to be near him; and I tell you him. Not waiting for him to anwhat, every one of you meet me swer, he continued, " By the way, here to-morrow without fail, and if will you do an errand for me to. Mr. Burton isn't happier after this, / day? I will consider it as a great it won't be our fault, will it, boys ?” | favour.”

"No, no, indeed," was the whis- As he spoke, he put into Mr. pered answer from all, as they Burton's hand a small parcel, sayquietly disbanded, and more than ing, “ You will find inside a memorone rubbed his eyes suspiciously, andum of what I wish. Now, goodsaying, “something must have got bye, and enjoy yourself.”

A faint smile crossed the young Yes, indeed, something was in man's face, as he thought how little them, a priceless gem--the tear of there was for him to enjoy. Seatsympathy for another's sorrow. Do ing himself in the train he opened not be ashamed of it, boys; they the parcel, and found that it conwill be few in manhood's busy, tained money, and written on & hardened life.

slip of paper these words : Slowly the moon disappeared be- o The favour that I would ask of you hind the clouds. It had done its is to give this money to a very worthy work well in revealing to the boys man; it is a debt I owe to one who prays a picture, though human and im- for my boy. His name is Henry Burperfect, of that grand old subject of ton. Calvary, painted years and years. Surprised and touched by this

in them."